Nose as long as a telephone wire

Commish, this one's for you.

I spent the last weekend out on a retreat with some fabulous women--several posts all on their own--but while I was gone, the Commish kept bugging me about something. Late Friday night he sent me a text asking me if I had a baseball or softball glove that our friend could borrow for Sunday. I ignored the text.

It was late; I was tired; I was disconnecting out on the Hood Canal; I was retreating. But that Commish is nothing if not persistent. He texted me Sunday morning, more direct this time: "Do you have a bb/sb glove?" I couldn't run any more, so I responded back, "I don't, sorry."

But guess what, Internets? I do have one. That's right, I lied. I'm a liar. And I lied to my friend, but deep down, I knew the Commish and our firend would totally understand why I lied and forgive me for it. And here we go, down the crazy road that is paved with vintage Karl Mecklenberg jerseys.

I was on the phone with the Commish tonight and we were talking about the glove texts and I had to come clean. I let him know that I actually do have a glove. It just happens to be the glove from when I played softball in the fourth grade, in oh, 1986. But that's not why I lied. I'm not ashamed of my 1980s glove, I'm actually proud of it, because I got Robin Yount to sign it. Robin Yount, Internets. Robin Yount.

Now, Internets, you might not know who Robin Yount is, but the thing is I knew that the Commish being a huge sports fan, and our friend being a huge Milwaukee Brewers fan would know him and would also know why I wasn't so keen to loan out my 1980s autographed glove. And I was so tired, and didn't feel like texting a message that said: "I do have a glove, actually the glove that I learned to play softball with in 1986, but I went to a Denver Zephyrs v. Milwaukee Brewers game at Mile Hi stadium in 1989 and I got it signed by Robin Yount who would later go on that season to be named the Most Valuable Player in the American League, so I'd rather not lend it out." "I don't, sorry," seemed the easier choice. Plus, I knew that if I would have said all of that our friend would have said, I can't use that glove. And then he probably would say that he wants to see it.

I swear, I'm not crazy. This is not like Mecklenberg at all. This all makes perfect sense, no matter what the Commish says to the contrary.